


One is the Loneliest Number

by KlingyKlaus



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Depression, Drug Use, Gen, Hurt, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Hurt No Comfort, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Klaus Hargreeves Whump, Not Beta Read, Pre-Canon, References to Depression, We Die Like Ben, Whump, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 12:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20025973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KlingyKlaus/pseuds/KlingyKlaus
Summary: Klaus had been sad all of his life.But sad isn't forever.





	One is the Loneliest Number

**Author's Note:**

> The summary makes it sound like it might have a happy ending. It does not. 
> 
> This could nebulously be considered pre-canon.
> 
> Another vent-fic, woah. 
> 
> The title is from _One_ by Three Dog Night, which I have been listening to on repeat for quite some time.
> 
> Please be careful reading. There's a mention of unintentional self-harm, but it's brief.
> 
> Let me know if I missed any tags.

Klaus was sad. 

Klaus Hargreeves had been sad a long time.

He was sad when Reginald proved to be just as cruel as everyone thought him to be. He was sad when he realized he’d never be good enough. He was sad when Ben died, his best friend, his _ boyfriend_. He was sad when he asked Diego to fill that gaping, empty, _angry _space in his heart that Ben had left, and Diego _ pushed him down _ a flight of stairs in response. Later, the ‘official story’ would be that he had tripped wearing Mom’s heels. And he was sad about that, too. 

He was sad when Ben came _ back. _ With him came the destruction of all his walls. Carefully constructed fortresses of marijuana haze and fake cheer, toppled. His only defenses against the onslaught of _ sadness _ blown away like so much dust. It was amazing how thoroughly ben destroyed him, time and again, without even trying. 

He was sad when he thought if a single person, living or otherwise, touched him he’d vomit. Sadder still when he realized no one in the house would touch him willingly, as if he had leprosy and they were living in biblical, rather than modern, times.

He was downright _ morose _ when Reginald kicked him out of the house. He skulked around the city’s seedy underbelly and did his best to stay hidden. The streets didn’t care if you were sad. They preferred you that way. Homeless meant penniless, and that meant desperation. Sad and desperate, that’s what Klaus was. He had never had more hatred, than during that time, for the fact that adjectives tended to travel in pairs. 

Later, he would add a third to that list; make it a trio rather than a pair. Slut, is the one to tag along behind sad and desperate. He’s out of money and he’s hungry, and he’s jonesing for a fix. So he hooks. And he gets addicted to the pain John’s inflict on him, loves the twisted-ugly rush he gets that blocks out the sad. That’s all he’s ever wanted, was to make the sad disappear. The ghosts, Klaus doesn’t fear them. He fears the sadness they wear like clothing. The misery they scream at him until it feels like his ears are bleeding, but really it’s his nails and his arms where he’s clawed into his flesh.

Klaus was sad, for a long time.

But _ now_. Now Klaus is numb, and he _ loves _ it.

Where once there was a sorrow-tight hollow in the cage of his ribs, there’s an even sort of emptiness that doesn’t feel like anything at all. It’s a negative space, not full but not empty. No positivity or negativity; neutral. Just, being. Existing in a feeling-tight bubble that doesn’t allow for Klaus to experience trivial things like sadness or joy. Only empty, blissful nothingness that gives him a reprieve from the pervasive tragedy that follows him like a malevolent shadow. 

The numb, it helps. It stops that jittery-juddery feeling of abject terror every time he sees a needle. In its place is a nice, abject fascination. The numb makes it easier for Klaus to wield what he once feared, and use it to his advantage. To let that needle slide underneath his skin with diver-like precision, and deliver a drug more powerful than The Devil’s Weed. 

Because he may be numb, but the ghosts threaten that. With their wails of agony and shouts of injustice. The ghosts, they’re sad, and they threaten to infect Klaus’ numb. A numb that he will work to keep. A numb that he will chase until it kills him. 

After all, numb is a much better place than _ sad_.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't ask if I'm okay in the comments. I am not.
> 
> Comments make my little writer head explode, in a good way.


End file.
